Memoirs

It's been a tough period for my family.

My mother called last Friday and informed me my grandfather had passed away. I'll spare the details, but it was an avoidable death and justice will come--some time and some place.

Saturday Ted packed me up and we headed to a local park with hundreds of miles of horse trails. We did some trail running, something I've always wanted to do, and something that helped clear my mind a bit. The scenery was beautiful, and the workout was a much needed release of energy.

While it was hard to attend the viewing and the funeral earlier this week, it was even harder seeing my family (and at the same time I couldn't imagine not). These are people I am so used to seeing happy and joyful, and now they are sad and broken. I wished I could take an ounce of the pain away...but the strength of the family will pull everyone through.

When a death occurs, I find myself thinking of memories I have of the person, what they may have thought of me, and what do I have in common with them that I can carry with me? It wasn't until after the funeral that the really strong, good memories came flooding back--before that, it was a blur of thoughts. There were memories, but nothing solid enough to share, nothing that seemed to truly honor his memory and what he meant to the family. After the cemetary, and before the luncheon, I took comfort in realizing my cousins must have felt the same--we stood in a circle and just began spitting out these memories...memories that could have filled boards and memories that couldn't come earlier that week. Memories that now truly showed what he was. I wonder if they felt the same as I did.

I am happy and take comfort in the fact that my grandfather was able to see milestones in my life. He saw me graduate high school. He wasn't physically at the college graduation, but he knew I did it. He saw me get married. He even made the 4 hour trek to see the house my husband and I have made for ourselves. Ted told me on the way home I am lucky to have been close to my grandfather and have memories of him--tractor rides, helping in the barn (or rather, playing with kittens while I was supposed to have been helping), hayrides, milking cows, boiling maple sugar. I didn't inherit his musical ability, but I like to think there are some parts of him that can be seen in me--at least I'd be honored to know that. I know he loved me--and I hope I made him proud.